2


Herzog's Best

Readings on the Treadwell Pic

10

harrowing

Pettman discusses the idea of Planet Earth as a cultural touchstone that attributes meaning to its documentation of the animal kingdom by pairing it with the implied exploration of what it means to be human. He also describes a sense of melancholy pervades the work, as though it were created to document the final years of a dying relative. Traditional studies of otherness are indeed present in Grizzly Man, but Pettman suggests they function as a projective canvas for self exploration and recognition. Pettman conveys that Humans, as intelligent and capable as they can be, must bounce self-concept off of their cerebrally inferior animal counterparts in order to integrate it.

Pettman cautions against psychoanalyzing Treadwell. Some viewers may find little of interest in what Treadwell’s sexual orientation might have, or should have, been. While it does not serve the documentary well to dwell on such things, it is actually a very integral part of the animal vs. human dialog, and Pettman addresses this as passively with words as Herzog does with editing. Sexuality is fundamental, almost animalistic, and to suggest there was even a possibility that a man with Treadwell’s intentions to unite with nature might have done so in a passive aggressive dance away from self acceptance shines a light on what might be the largest layer of irony in the story. Pettman himself touches on how, for Giorgio Agamben, sexual fulfillment is “an element which seems to belong totally to nature but instead everywhere surpasses it. Sex, along with food, is a key area where the human is forced to acknowledge its animalistic aspect.”

Pettman points out that Herzog paints the canvas of the film with many shades of irony. Herzog uses the subject’s own footage and passive editing to showcase Treadwell’s idiosyncrasies without centering on them. In this passive channel of communication to audience, Pettman suggests that Herzog uses editing to expose the multifaceted humanity of Treadwell without dismissively essentializing him (the way Treadwell seemed to have felt society had indeed essentialized him). It is also the way Herzog could offer meaning without asserting it.

Pettman suggests that by exposing as many contrasting sides of Treadwell as possible (manic, depressive, caring, combative, confused) he allows the ghost of Treadwell to prove himself by example to be an unreliable narrator; a role which casts even more speculation, and inspires more potential discussion, for the viewer. This also brings weight to the discussion of the human.

Pettman raises the question of where is the human? With technology confining human experience only to what may be captured or shared, one of the more overlooked treasures of this documentary is how it manages, through a multitude of dimensions and cameras, to shed light on a period in history in which humanity is more of a technological hybrid than an evolved echo of the animal. To orient Treadwell’s work in Herzog’s film, Pettman interprets a quote from Giorgio Agamben to form his own concept that a “man is the animal that must recognize itself as human to be human”.

Pettman cites Bernard Stiegler’s three forms of memory for living beings: genetic (DNA), individual (experiential), and technical (inscriptive/prosthetic). The third type is obviously the work of the camera, and after digesting Pettman’s ideas on this subject, one could conclude he is suggesting Treadwell the human has more in common with a camera than a bear; his humanity coming alive when filmed, tethered to battery life. With location synonymous with definition, Pettman writes “In an interlinked biosphere and mediasphere, the task of locating a species which is increasingly hybrid – even parasitic – is both a challenge and an opportunity.”

Pettman brings Freud to the table to discuss the role of fantasy in the setting of the film and Treadwell’s life’s work. Pettman connects this to Damisch, who points out the analogous relationship between the fantasy realm and the setting of a nature reserve. “A nature reserve,” Pettman writes, “preserves its original state which everywhere else has to our regret been sacrificed to necessity. Everything, including what is useless and even what is noxious, can grow and proliferate there as it pleases.”. This brings an alarming new layer of discussion to issues of humanity and nature in the film: this idea, that these bears exist essentially because the world Treadwell has rejected has allowed them to, speaks volumes to the futility of his lofty goals as their protector. As much as the film explores humanity through Treadwell, it does so at the cost of gradually chipping away at the the fantasy Treadwell seemingly carries with him.

Jeong & Andrew suggest Herzog is dealing with the fractured legacy of Treadwell’s ghost. The viewer was a ghost for Treadwell’s camera routines as he is a ghost for them in death. In Grizzly Man, Jeong & Andrew see a three dimensional spatial exploration of becoming the animal, and fourth dimensional, temporal exploration of becoming the ghost.

Jeong & Andrew heftily filter Herzog’s piece through Bazin’s concepts of theatrical death. They suggest Bazin is correct that death can never be represented, only experienced. Cinema’s ability to craft measurable meaning out of the implied is what allows Herzog to tackle Treadwell’s death in a way that serves the film without overshadowing the more valuable exploration of the animal-human border; the film can only tempt the viewer with the significance of death, but rewardingly discusses Treadwell’s humanity throughout. The fact Treadwell is a ghost to us, his death already past for him and looming for us, suggests how Herzog might have found his footing in crafting the documentary when the project first began, doing so around the universal terror of death. “And yet, Herzog acculturates this terror, sublimating it, by giving his grizzly man an audience, effectively reanimating him.”

Jeong & Andrew suggest Bazin saw this type of filmmaking as misinformed, that capturing the death of a person was actually a failed attempt at something more metaphysical; akin to trapping death itself like lightning in a bottle. While cinema cannot relay death incarnate, it can appropriate it in such ways that inspire a “reappraisal” of life. “In witnessing the end of other organisms, cinema lets us imagine the experience of death in advance, inoculating us against it.”

Bazin also puts death in the cinema not as the point of no return, but the ultimate point to journey to and return from. “In lodging Grizzly Man dead centre in his genre of exploration films, Bazin would have identified the adventurer as Herzog, not Treadwell, for it is Herzog who returns from the brink after glimpsing danger and death.” Death is the unrepresentable real which Jeong & Andrew suggest to be the “powerhouse for every representational system working in diffĂ©rance.”

Jeong & Andrew suggest that Treadwell died an animalistic death; one free of subjectivity, where life simply expires and the species continues on unphased. In this regard, the reaction of the world to Treadwell’s death casts a large spotlight on what it means to be human, and how much meaning individuals carry in our species in death compared to the bears. The animal’s seemingly casual relationship with death (a stark contrast to humanity’s) is discussed as part of the idea, from minds like Descartes and Heidegger, that animals lack the tools, such as language, to project and identity, and thus do not die. Jeong & Andrew cite language as a fundamental tool of humanity, but suggest that language cannot explain or even ask why “Bear 141” killed Treadwell. Such ideas bring to light how man and cinema share limitations when approaching death; it is inconceivable to both. Jeong & Andrew suggest the animal scream of Treadwell’s death is the closest one can come, and acts as a placeholder for Herzog.

Overall, one could say Pettman sees Treadwell’s attempt to become animal as futile, but bears the unexpected fruit of a greater discussion of humanity. Pettman, Jeong & Andrew all see the camera as a catalyst for Treadwell, one that brings out a very specific part of him that resonates deeply within the discussion of ghosts, humans, and animals that Herzog frames the documentary in. While Jeong & Andrew claim Treadwell’s undeniable “human(ist)” side comes out when he prays for rain to bring salmon to the river and sustenance to the area, they suggest that Treadwell did in fact become an animal in the moment of death, and Herzog excludes us from witnessing this transformation. Concealing the ghostly echo of the moment of Treadwell’s death, Herzog absorbs the blow for us, much like Treadwell attempted to do for Amy Huguenard during their fatal attack, with Herzog succeeding where his subject failed.